


Sebastian

by Classified_Information



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Also Their Doctor Is A Prick According To Jim, Attacked, Comatosed, Feels, Hospitals, Hurt Jim, M/M, Poor Jimmy, Sad, Sebastian's Gone And Gotten Himself Injured, Swearing, Very Sadness, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classified_Information/pseuds/Classified_Information
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight days, twenty-two hours, forty-two minutes, and... Ten seconds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sebastian

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to try and get over my writer's block. Did it work? I'm not sure yet.

Eight days it's been. Eight days, twenty-two hours, forty-two minutes, and… ten seconds. I think I've walked seven miles today just by pacing the corridor and hospital room. Again.

Thirty seconds.

I haven't been home since Sebastian was taken in; I've slept - briefly - and ate - occasionally - at the hospital. I remember showering once after four days of being here and a grim, sickly version of myself awaited me when I looked in the mirror afterwards. I dread to think how I look now.

Fifty seconds. I don't know what went wrong; he assured me he had it all planned out well and he's usually very capable of planning our hits. I wasn't with him when it happened, though, maybe I should have been…

Fifty-three seconds.

I smile sadly as I watch him sleep. He's a good sniper. And - dare I say it? I might as well be honest - a good friend.

Fifty-five seconds.

No, actually, you know what? If I'm being honest now, he's not. He's great. Amazing, in fact. He's fucking amazing for putting up with me for this long. No one else has and no one else ever will. I hate him for it sometimes, he's unbelievable... Amazingly unbelievable...

Fifty-eight seconds.

Too amazing... It isn't fair.

Forty three minutes.

It really isn't fair…

'Oh, wake up!' I burst out in the silence. 'You can hear me, I know you can. So, for God's sake, just wake up!'

'That's not going to help, you do understand?'

Fuck, I forgot he was here.

'You never know, it might,' I mumble, slightly embarrassed as I solemnly walk to the chair by Sebastian's bed.

'A few people do that after a while, believe me, yelling has been tested,' the doctor says, raising an eyebrow. Collecting his notes, he makes for the door. 'I'll be back at, oh um, about five o'clock for further tests on his condition.'

He leaves without a goodbye and I sit down.

'He's a prick, isn't he, Seb? Can't believe we got stuck with him as our doctor.'

Sebastian is quiet. I look over him; a bandage round his head is all I've got to tell me about what happened. A blow to the head. Possibly fatal, the doctors told me, but only time will tell… Poor thing…

'You should've paid more attention,' I remind him again as I've done every so often. 'I wasn't there to tell you when to duck, to cover for you, and you knew that.'

He is painfully quiet. Thin tubes are pierced with needles into the veins in his right hand, then the tubes disappear off the other side of the bed. I don't say anything for a minute, I just watch him, I had found a comfort over the eight days in just watching his breathing. Steady and peaceful. Again, I smile sadly, but this time my vision becomes hazy.

'You would love to see me cry over you like this, wouldn't you, you bastard?' I roll my eyes when I realise what a mess this has made me. '"Oh, I'm Sebastian, I made James Moriarty, the most unsympathetic, most heartless, criminal psychopath in London, possibly the world, cry like a child over a favourite broken toy," that's what you'd say. Dickhead…'

As I think on how true that is, I chuckle softly; he would make fun of me so fucking much, I doubt if he'd ever let me live it down.

'I… I miss you, Sebastian, I hope you know that. The doctors are lying to us, you'll be all right. You could say all that stuff about making me cry if you want, I wouldn't mind, at least you'd be speaking to me again.'

I stop talking for a bit in fear that if I continue I'll start feeling sorry for myself and Sebastian and start bawling over his bed.

'When are you gonna wake up?' I ask, my voice now sounding cracked and tired. 'It's been a long time, you can't sleep here forever.'

He's quiet.

I sniff and sigh and try adding casually, 'You know I'll just hire someone else to be my sniper if you don't wake up?'

He's completely mute.

'I'll even give them your old gun?'

No response comes. That didn't help then.

'Never thought I'd miss your snark so much...'

A shaky sigh escapes me and I stand, wiping my eyes. I sway over to the window and look out. The light from outside burns my eyes more than the tears and my head begins throbbing painfully; I groan. Then I hear Sebastian shift and grumble in his bed behind me.

'Seb?' I turn quickly, straightening myself out. I smooth back my hair and wipe the tears from my eyes.

'Ngh…'

'Sebastian!' I step closer, my heart feels like it's pounding violently in my throat and now I'm utterly speechless. His hands twitch and with a short gasp he slowly opens his eyes. I can't help myself. My own eyes fill rapidly with tears again and I cover my face.

'Oh, fuck…' I collapse down on the floor and kneel by his bed, shaking as I watch him look around the room.

'What- ' his throat is dry, making his voice weak and croaky. A coughing fit takes over him for a few seconds and I hesitantly stand again.

'Are you okay? Shit, Sebastian, how do you feel? I'll get the doctor, don't worry, hang on.'

I franticly rush to the door. I haven't opened it yet when Sebastian asks: 'Sorry… But do I… Know you?'

I stop in place. It's a joke. Very amusing, Sebastian. So, you've been in a coma a little over a week and, upon awakening, you see me snivelling and thought it would be funny to panic me even more. I knew you'd love to see me cry over you. I knew it, didn't I say? I. Knew. It.

'Funny, dear…' I scoff, sniffling.

'Excuse me, but "dear?" Who are you? Seriously, am I supposed to know who you are?'

'Sebastian…' I turn around expecting to see him grinning mischievously at me. He isn't. He's sitting up in his bed now and his expression, although anxious, is deadly serious.


End file.
